An Ode To Gimmelwald
I like to say that Gimmelwald introduced me to community or at least how it felt to be a part of one.
I embarked on the convoluted journey to Gimmelwald from Basel, a really peaceful city in the North of Switzerland, where I felt my first and only bout of loneliness during my travels. I took a train to Interlaken, a town I would soon come to know and love. After all, the entirety of Lauterbrunnen valley, or at least the people I surrounded myself with anyway, partied there at the end of the Summer season in anticipation of a month’s long holiday, prepping for winter.
Another train ride, a few bus stops, and one gondola ride later, I found myself on the front stoop of Gimmelwald’s Mountain Hostel: the place I got to call home for the month of October. Upon arrival, I wasn’t really sure that they would take me. I hadn’t spoken to Janine since August. She is the bad ass 26-year old owner who hired me to live and work there in the first place.
Little did I know that in the following thirty days I would start to waitress in the pizza restaurant that was attached to the hostel for some spending money; practice my German (Although Swiss German is still a mystery to me. Some of the locals refused to speak anything but the Gimmelwaldian dialect, which is a thing even though there are only about 100 residents); meet paragliders and hangliders who land on our patio, base jumpers, musicians, and other people from all over the world. Coincidentally, I even met someone from my alma mater when boarding the gondola down to Stechelberg.
The environment had as much of an influence on me as the people I met did. I got to experience what it was like to live in a car free village, see the stars and galaxies every night, (thanks to the lack of light pollution), meditate, embark on solo hikes to glacial lakes, paraglide for free with an instructor who frequented the hostel, and most importantly disconnect from anything and anyone I knew.
I made friends that become something like family to me. I’m talking about Deb (my Argentinian ‘old soul’ sister), Kati (Deb’s real sister), Janine, Andy, Lara, Luka, and even the guests who came and went just as fast. The Mountain Hostel fostered such a splendid community of expats, and despite the fact that most of us were far from home, it certainly felt like one for all of us.
This was the first time I really came to know and love local customs and people that couldn’t have grown up farther away from me. I remember hearing a French girl describe two spiders on the wall as ‘two souls making love,’ my first few bitter sips of Mate, the boxes we had to so tightly bind together with string on trash pickup days, the helicopters that delivered oversized packages that wouldn’t make it up the mountain otherwise, the gondola’s nightly closing time that rendered any travel down into the valley at night impossible (If you missed the last ride, not only would you be SOL, you’d also be out of a bed), and the clothes lines I would organize so well.
And like I’m sure it was for others, I found escape above the clouds, when previously my thoughts and worries were allowed to run free. There’s something special about living in a hostel 24/7. There’s something even more special about being tucked away a few thousand feet in the air too. I don’t know— maybe there’s something about the sheer size of the Alps that made all my fears seem so small and inconsequential. I’m also a strong believer in the Mountain Hostel itself. This place and the people that gathered there gave me the confidence to embrace my interests, ideas, and most importantly myself. And for that I’m forever grateful.
About The Mountain Hostel Itself
So if this post inspired nothing more than a trip to this lovely oasis in the sky, I’ll still call that a win. Beds are 45 CHF per night and private rooms are 120 CHF. It’s a hidden gem for sure and a staple in the town since the 1500s, when it was originally built for two families housing goats and cows in the basement.
Gimmelwald often lives in the shadows of Mürren and the Schilthorn peak, literally and figuratively. And I can’t tell you the amount of times that I told people about this car-free mountain town, after which they replied, “Are you sure you’re not talking about Grindelwald?”
No, I am not. And if I was, I would have said Grindelwald. Regardless, it’s a great way to experience the Alps off the beaten path. And while, no, the delicious pizza we baked from scratch in house is not included, breakfast, live music, and the views certainly are.
Janine has tirelessly worked to renovate and maintain the location, since Petra, the previous owner, gave her the opportunity to be keeper of the house at the age of 24. And as I’m sure many people would tell you, Janine is f*cking killing it. From your average run of the mill hostel, she has transformed this space into a rustic refuge for travelers and locals alike. It’s definitely one my favorite places on this earth.
So if you’re interested, and I don’t know why you wouldn’t be, you can find more information about the hostel here.
